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“Oh ho ho, do tell.” Barrett stood and wobbled only a little. “Or, wait until I get back at least. I’ve got something good for dessert but it’ll take a minute.”
“Please don’t use sharp implements when drunk, Barrett.” Ambrose was on his feet instantly, following Barrett over to the kitchen. The main floor of the cabin was mostly one large room encompassing the kitchen, living area, and fireplace. Two short hallways branched off of it, leading to guest rooms and Barrett’s office and bathrooms. The second floor was a large loft, the landing a small reading area and then the master bedroom and bathroom beyond that. One could look down from the reading area and see the open main floor. Ambrose had watched Barrett cook from that very spot on occasion over the last few months, poking about the bookshelves between hisses of steam or the quick, steady rhythm of a knife.
But just because Ambrose could see Barrett didn’t mean he wanted to sit and watch him do all the work. “Here, let me help,” he said, slipping behind Barrett with his hands out.
Barrett’s grin was loose and bright, and it echoed in Ambrose. He was feeling that way, too. He could hear Raf cooing at Dandi in the background, and the kitchen smelled like roast chicken and thyme and some smoky candle flickering softly on the mantle. It was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time.
“Here, you start the oven,” Barrett said, pulling Ambrose out of his thoughts. “Four hundred degrees. And I’ll get the pie.”
“Pie?” Raf called from the dining table. “I’m now officially spoiled and it’s not my birthday weekend.”
Ambrose let out a snort as he turned the oven on and bumped the temperature up to four hundred. “Behave, Raf.”
“Never.”
Barrett pulled a pie out of the freezer and set it on top of the stove. “Last one from the previous summer.”
Ambrose eyed it through the gauzy plastic film covering the top. “I thought I was your pie maker.”
Barrett laughed. “You are. On top of a lot of other things.” His kiss was soft and sweet, lingering only long enough to make Ambrose sigh. “Val makes these every year from the rhubarb patch in the back.” His smile turned sadder. “Every summer they come out for a week. Fish, swim, hike. Forrest won’t be up for that this year but I was thinking of taking her some pies when we visit.”
His breath got stuck somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. “You want us to go together?”
“If that’s okay.” Barrett sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I should have handled that better.” He put his hand on Ambrose’s, his thumb tracing a tendon. “Got something on my mind, and then we can go back to costume parties and visits with my family. While we wait for the oven, can we chat about something?”
A wariness settled in his stomach and made the thought of pie turn sour. Ambrose glanced at Raf, who was watching them, his expression now carefully guarded. Barrett must have realized they were both now on edge, because he led Ambrose back to the table and sat down with a heavy sigh. “Barrett, what’s going on?”
Barrett put a business card on the table and then handed Ambrose his phone. The picture was of a shorter man, probably in his fifties, with a ruddy nose and perpetually sad eyes. “Mid afternoon, this guy shows up. Dandi got my attention and I went out to find him just standing there.” Barrett relayed the conversation he had with the PI, only to pause midway through his last sentence. “He said your mother hired him.”
Ambrose froze with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. Raf instantly put a hand on his shoulder, but he barely felt it. The sheer weight of theangerpulsing through him made his next words hoarse. “So she’s not going to leave me alone.”
“I don’t know if he’s going to come back. But I told him to fuck off and that he was trespassing.” Barrett’s mouth thinned and he scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “I’m so sorry, Ambrose. Whatever you want me to do, just say so.”
That anger he felt was making his heart hammer in his chest, but there was no spike of anxiety, his vision narrowing into a tunnel and his chest feeling tight. The anger wasgood. It feltright. He took it, balled it up, and held it close, and slowly let his fists uncurl. “You don’t have to apologize, Barrett. What you did was more than enough.” Ambrose said slowly, looking between his best friend and his boyfriend. “I’m not entirely surprised by any of this, sadly.”
“What can we do to help?” Raf leaned into him, putting his arm around Ambrose’s shoulders.
He’d already chosen his path. He just needed to take those first steps. “Do you still have a Rolodex of lawyers?”
Something wicked glinted in Raf’s eyes and Ambrose caught Barrett’s nod of approval. “Oh, I’ve got someone for you, my friend. Newer client of mine at the gallery. She could make your mother’s head spin with alook.” Raf pulled out his phone and fired off a few texts. “Trust me on this. You want a restraining order, she can get it.”
“I want whatever will keep her and anyone associated with her off my property.” But even as the words left him, he felt that old, ugly bitterness rise in him again. Out of sight, but still not out of mind. Not healed, and maybe not for a long time. If ever. “So she’s got enough gall to send someone else but won’t come back out herself. And I know I can’t control what others do.”
“You said you wanted to be free of her.” There was a soft rush of air at his left and when he turned, Barrett was seated beside him. He was being held up by Barrett and Raf, their presence at his sides comforting, calming. “I’m not about to give a bunch of unwanted advice here, Ambrose. But maybe you should think about it a little. Consider what free looks like to you.”
Raf’s arm tightened around him. “Still want the lawyer?”
Ambrose nodded. He wanted the lawyer and the paperwork for a leg to stand on, if it came to that. He wanted the security of those papers. He wanted to see the part they’d play in his freedom. But he knew there was more than just paperwork and court orders to pursue. He needed to schedule another session with Dr. Fielding. “Very much so. But later.” He pulled Barrett’s hand into his lap and let his head fall back against the chair. “Let’s go outside so Barrett can tell me more about this picnic we’re going to have.”
Once the pie was consumed, they went outside to set the fire pit roaring, drinks in hand. Ambrose felt some of the tension ease from his muscles. It used to be when he got anxious, his entire body would seize up and then he’d ache for days, muscles twitching. But with the clear, dark sky above and a thick glass tumbler of whisky in hand, the desire to tense up and sit ramrod straight all but faded. Barrett sat against the low stone wall around the patio, a blanket under them as Ambrose reclined in the vee of his thick legs. Raf was close by in a rickety camping chair, his face tipped up and one hand tracking a constellation.
“Beautiful out here,” Raf murmured, getting noises of agreement from he and Barrett. Ambrose saw him shiver a little when the wind whipped by, but Raf closed his eyes and curled tighter in on himself. With every easy breath his best friend took, Ambrose took one of his own.
“You okay?”
Barrett’s voice, a rumble in his ear, made him grip his glass. “Better now,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”
“You kidding? You didn’t drag me into anything, Ambrose.”
